Fractured Stars

by Spruceton Spook

Part 12

Loneliness

"Oh, thank goodness!" Misty proclaimed as Brock pushed the front door open. With a crazy yelp, she dashed into the kitchen, placed Togepi on the counter, tore the freezer door open, and shoved in the two pints of ice cream she'd been cradling for the past half-hour. She closed the door forcefully and leaned against it for good measure, gasping for breaths through her laughter.

Brock was smiling widely, his one arm dragging at his side from holding the heavy milk in his hand. Another one was propped in the crook of his elbow. "I told you buying ice cream was a bad idea!" he scolded playfully as he set the milk down on the counter. "Didn't I tell you?"

Misty's laughing calmed, but her face remained flushed with amusement. "Yeah, but it was fun trip home, wasn't it?"

"No," Brock argued with light tetchiness, "that was an awful trip home! Why didn't we just get the chips? Chips don't melt!"

Misty started giggling again, throwing her arms wide in a shrug of complete admission to the lunacy of it all. After strolling around the small Pallet shopping center for a few hours, they had saved the food shopping for last. It was a very breakneck trip home, their strides triggered by urgency. It had very well been Misty's idea to get the ice cream, vowing that they'd be able to get the treat home in one piece. But as the smoldering heat began to render the boxes a bit mushy, they wound up jogging the rest of the way to get it to safety.

"Well, we're home now, and I think the ice cream is okay," Misty reported. "At least, it should be now."

Brock shook his head and put the milk away. "Sure, sure."

As their merriment tailed off, Misty cocked her head at the stillness. Her heartbeat was trying to calm from the vigorous laughter and exercise, but as her mind suddenly averted itself to Ash, it quickened again. In all their time away from the house, Misty had expected Ash to finally grace them with his presence, either affronted by their galivanting off without him or just puttering around the main floor. But he wasn't there.

"Hmmm," she said softly.

"What?" Brock asked, sipping some soda from the can he'd just cracked opened.

Misty looked at him. "Wonder where Ash is?"

Brock shrugged nonchalantly, obviously not as bothered by the house's inactivity as Misty. "I dunno. Still in his room?"

"No!" Misty countered, making a face. It soon turned to one of question, however. "Could he?"

"Beats me," replied Brock, quaffing down the rest of the soda in one gulp. He had craved it the whole blistering way home. "He could be at Professor Oak's or something. I mean, we were gone for a long time. He's not that patient to wait around for us."

Misty pursed her lips and glanced at the ceiling. She was dying to see Ash, though, and a part of her hoped he was still home. She'd worried about him the entire previous night, and then she had found herself worrying in the village. It was odd to be out doing things with just Brock; it wasn't easy for her to put Ash out of her mind. She missed him and was totally concerned now, desperate to know that Ash was feeling better from previous night's upheaval with Gary.

Misty started out of the kitchen and towards the stairs, but Brock's voice halted her.

"Where you going?"

"To see if Ash is upstairs," Misty replied, swinging around the end of the banister and making her way up the stairs.

"Wait for me," Brock said, beginning to follow her. He was shocked, however, when Misty placed her hand out to stop him.

"No, no," she decreed gently. "I have this. Just wait down here. If he's there, I'll get him down here in a second. Feed Togepi for me, please?"

"Oh, right, sure," he conceded, accepting the delegation of duties without a fuss, much to Misty's benefit.

Misty ascended the stairs quietly and approached Ash's room just the same. The door was shut, but that didn't mean anything. Occasionally Ash closed his door when he left—often when he had a mess he wished to hide from his mother—but normally it was left open to grant light to the tiny hallway of the home. Misty felt a shiver of hope when she saw it was closed this time, immediately and intuitively placing Ash within.

Thinking nothing of it, Misty opened the door with purpose and was met with a loud gasp. Ash's head jerked up and his body lurched as their eyes met. He was sitting atop his bed, fully dressed, with Pikachu curled up in his lap. He looked utterly startled, and Misty, embarrassed at having heedlessly barged in on him, quickly put on an apologetic smile.

"Oh my gosh, Ash, I'm sorry," she laughed softly. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"Pikachu pi!" Pikachu greeted Misty happily, yet softly.

Ash continued to gape as Misty closed the door quietly behind her. What was she doing here? He excitedly grasped the Pokémon magazine he'd been reading, crumpling the edges. Although he knew avoiding his friends all day was impossible, Misty's slapdash entrance felt like an invasion he was not armed for.

Despite his shocked expression, Misty could instantly detect a variety of emotions splashed across Ash's face. It was enough to douse her smile, make her stomach lurch sadly; of all that she beheld, it was the sadness that stood out the most. Ash's eyes, normally bright, glistening, and full of energy, were dull and sullen, and the little bit of red amidst them confirmed they were probably raw from tears. His slightly pale face only served to exhibit them more.

"Ash," she said simply, the worry surfacing right away in her voice. She tried to recover the smile that she had on moments ago, but his frightful manner was making it hard to do so. She couldn't help but stare in disbelief at her friend.

"M-misty," Ash nodded, his voice dragged out and miserable. The tension flamed.

He continued to stare guardedly as Misty made her advance. He practically held his breath as she climbed up the ladder and gently sat herself beside him. His skin prickling at her proximity, Ash felt inclined to look down and away. He didn't know what to do, how to receive her. He was just too caught unsuspecting and too distraught to fully gather himself for this encounter.

Misty watched him downheartedly, her eyes drooping at the sight of the downcast boy. Suddenly, the scene became all too familiar. The instant feeling of dejá vu swept through her. This had happened before—very recently before. The wallow and pain present in Ash's look was eerily akin to that of about two weeks ago, when yet another disrupting issue was unfolding in his life. But Misty had helped Ash through that, and she was determined to steer him out of this dilemma, too. Whatever that may be.

"Ash?" she asked, kindness pouring from her lips. She reached out and tenderly placed a hand on her friend's shoulder. His gaze was still turned away from her. She could see that he was breathing uneasily. "What's going on?"

Ash shrugged, which, at that moment, was enough for Misty. She was glad he hadn't hastily refused.

"Do you want to talk?" she urged, her voice still calm.

"There's nothing to talk about," Ash replied. "I'm fine."

Like Misty was going to believe that. "No, you aren't," she contradicted gently. "I can tell. You look so sad. What's the matter?"

Finally, Ash granted her his attention. Their eyes locked momentarily before he tore his gaze away again, although this time not completely.

"Ash, please tell me you haven't been sulking up here all day," she pleaded.

"I haven't," Ash answered dismally, giving her a quick jolt of relief. It was soon crushed, however. "I went to the bathroom, and then I came back."

Misty exhaled in frustration. Licking her lips, she glanced down and began to absent-mindedly pick at a loose thread on Ash's comforter. How was she going to approach this? She could already tell by his tone that drawing his feelings out of him was going to be like pulling teeth. Still, she took a deep breath and resumed.

"So let's talk about it," she persisted. "I'm here to listen."

"There's nothing to talk about," Ash repeated, this time more firmly.

"Yes, there obviously is. Are you still so upset about Gary's that you've stayed up here all day?"

Ash reached up to rub his eyes agitatedly. "That's...part of it," he answered uncomfortably.

"What's the rest of it?"

"Nothing." Misty tensed at the curtness of Ash's reply. There was so much more to that nothing.

"Yeah, right," Misty disagreed, watching Ash's face become more strained, as if her persistence stung. This reaction did nothing to discourage her; rather, it emboldened her.

"There's not!" he grumbled back.

"Yes, there is!" she replied just as testily.

"No, there's not!" Ash cried through gritted teeth. Misty nearly yelped as his fists came down heavily in front of him. The perverse action was enough to send Pikachu flying off his lap and towards the other end of the bed. His hands then flew to his face and his body coiled in on itself. While it shouldn't have come off as such a shock due to the unquestionably distraught face he was displaying seconds ago, the escalation of his despair still succeeded in disturbing Misty.

"Ash—"

"You wanna know what happened?" he suddenly blurted out, causing Misty to flinch. He glared at her, tears pooling in his bloodshot, chocolate eyes.

"I'll tell you what!" he bawled. Although he sounded vexed, the sadness nevertheless poured through. "Everything bad that can happen keeps happening, okay?! There, I told you! You happy?"

His head hung miserably, the admission rendering him defeated. Concern flooded Misty, wondering what tragedy was manifesting in his mind to make become so hopeless. Her desire to help him burgeoned, and Misty found herself involuntarily inching closer to him again. Carefully, she took hold of his elbow, trusting the simple gesture would help him elaborate on this depressing notion.

Lowering her head, she spoke softly into his ear. "Tell me what's going on, Ash. Everything."

Everything. Ash squinted disconcertedly. Had he just backed himself into a corner with his outburst? Ash wasn't so sure he felt comfortable relaying his night of misery or the following dismal morning to Misty, or any of the disheartening events from the last week that had bruised his spirit. After all, wasn't this the girl who had abandoned him the previous night, left him alone to fend for himself? Here she was now, back from her bizarre absence (half-a-day later, no less!) and desiring an explanation.

So why was it suddenly, despite his leeriness and umbrage, that he was ready to speak? Ash could only wonder as his longing to vent and be heard, regardless of who was before him, overtook his underlying caution.

"I shouldn't have come home last night, Misty," he began, tears beginning to collect again in his eyes. "You were right. I should have been strong like you told me to be and stayed at Gary's house last night. It was a mistake to come home. I shouldn't have come home..."

Listening to Ash bemoan dreadfully, Misty grimaced. She had heard this story already, but she had an inkling Ash's version was about to shed the light necessary for her to help him.

"What happened when you came home?" she prodded.

"My parents…" Ash started, his voice shaky from his restive emotions, "my parents…they—they were here." He paused at that vague lead-in, not knowing how to convey what was coming to his head at that moment. He wasn't sure if he wanted to describe what he had seen in its entirety. It was disturbing enough to realize what his parents had been doing when he'd burst through the door. The image of his topless mother alone made his stomach wrench apprehensively. How was he going to impart this without embarrassment?

"Mom and Dad were…having a nice time," Ash put together, satisfied with his ambiguous yet satisfying description. He frowned at the memory. "B-but I didn't know that! I came into the house, and…and, oh man! They were so mad! I haven't seen them that mad at me in a long time! They kept telling me to go back to Gary's, they wouldn't listen to me! M-my dad…my dad, he…he was yelling at me so loud! An-and he…I—I was afraid he was going to hit me, Misty. He was so mad..."

Misty's heart pounded as she absorbed Ash's sorrowful retelling, one that had quite a bit more substance than what Delia had related. It was starting to become more understandable now why he was moping.

"And then Mom…" Ash continued, bringing his hand up to smear the tears away from his eyes. His speech tottered with every word, making it an endeavor for Misty to decipher at moments. "Sh-she wasn't doing anything! She wasn't listening to me, she was just letting Dad yell at me—she wasn't going to stop him from doing anything else, I knew it! So I ran and I locked myself in here. I was so scared they were gonna make me come out, and go back. They didn't, but…they're still so mad at me, and I don't know why! I thought that Mom would understand, that she would finally know what I really feel about Gary, and how she forced us to go there, but she doesn't. She…she told me this morning that what I did was horrible, even after I tried to explain, but she just wouldn't listen to me…"

"Oh, Ash," Misty sighed dolefully. "I'm sorry this happened. I really am."

Ash nodded, but that didn't heal anything. He did, however, find that letting this all out had made him feel considerably better. It was relief, actually, to tell someone else what happened, how he was feeling. No one else was allowing him to do that. He was the villain; he was the one to suffer. But why? Why did he have to? How come no one was helping him? How come nobody…how come nobody cared?

"They hate me," Ash admitted unexpectedly, causing Misty's eyes to flair open.

"What?" she gasped, disbelief clear in her high-pitched tone.

"My parents," Ash clarified, flicking his red, wet eyes at her. "My parents hate me, Misty."

Misty was shocked. "That's not true!"

"Yes it is," Ash shook his head, sniffling. "They don't love me anymore." He slumped again and shut his eyes fiercely. "All they've been doing lately is pushing me out of their way."

"Oh, Ash," Misty moaned compassionately, her heart breaking.

Ash sniffled. "And now they don't even want anything to do with me. I can see it in the way my mom looked at me this morning. Misty, she hates me. And so does Dad. The—the way he yelled at me last night, how he just wanted me gone…"

Misty slouched, reluctantly taking this all in. The manner in which Ash was speaking was tearing her apart, and she didn't know how much longer she could bear his anguish.

"In fact," Ash continued, dragging his words, "I…I don't think anyone cares about me anymore." He tensed as he said this, hesitant to relay those exact words. The fact that Misty and Brock had neither come to see nor speak to him until now still hung in his mind. He couldn't help but convey what was he was feeling, as implausible as it was. His voice lowered dismally. "All anybody's been doing to me lately is hurting me. No one loves me."

Misty was at a loss for words as he said this. Her heart plummeted at the mere suggestion. No one care about Ash? The way the words had been uttered so sadly alone was enough to give her a shiver of appall.

"I care about you," she testified quickly, feeling the words inadvertently slip through her lips. Her stomach took a maddening leap as they did, and her hand squeezed Ash's arm just a bit more firmly.

Swallowing his tears away, Ash nodded. His miserable posture remained. "Thanks, Misty," he said, his voice forlorn and glum. It still held a touch of appreciation, though. "Thanks for trying to make me feel better."

Misty bit her lip, feeling her palms become sweaty. This wasn't coming out that way she wanted it to, so she spoke again. "N-no, Ash. I mean… I care about you…a lot."

She held her breath and watched as Ash continued to look down at his folded hands. Moments later, however, he lifted his head and looked apathetically at her. Her eyes glimmered with tears at that exact second, and she slowly lifted her lips into a soft smile.

"Please…please don't think that nobody lu-likes you, because…b-because I do," she managed to say. She shuddered as a chill ran up her spine. She wondered if it was from her emotions or from the blanched look that had crept to Ash's swollen face. Her voice lowered to an inaudible, timid, but very serious level. "I like you a lot."

Oh my God, Misty braced herself, hoping that the heat she was feeling in her face wasn't showing. What did I just say?

Ash stared at her for quite a few seconds, his eyes burrowing deep into hers. His expression was nearly blank, confusing Misty as to whether he had understood, on the surface, what she had told him. Or if he knew how much was hidden within those simple words.

The way she was looking at him, the gravity and earnestness of her testament… Ash moved his head away slightly and looked across his room. He couldn't interpret why, but what Misty had said struck him peculiarly. What began as a warm feeling brought on by her compassion was, bewilderingly, now a tense one. Her eyes on him were becoming oddly uncomfortable, causing him to feel as though he almost didn't want her there any longer. Something just didn't feel…easygoing, explicit in what she had relayed. Involuntarily, his heart quickened.

And now she herself was looking troubled, all but magnifying his uneasiness. Abruptly, she shifted, bringing her folded legs out from underneath her, and she started climbing off the bed.

Nervousness invaded Misty. A purely altruistic act on her part had just elicited feelings she hadn't meant to convey like that. She could only pray Ash's denseness helped lessen the blow of her sentimental avowal.

Gotta go, gotta go… "Um…I—I should go back downstairs," she said, unsettled breathing surfacing in her voice. "Brock's feeding Togepi; I should go see how he's eating…an-and he's probably wondering what happened to me. Brock, that is. Well, and Togepi, too. Both of them." Her sudden erratic rambling did nothing to mitigate Ash's disquietude. Misty began to fiddle with her bangs, twirling them around with her finger. "A-are you going to, uh, come down soon?"

Ash's mouth moved, but nothing came out at first. "I don't know," he forced out, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Maybe later, okay? I really don't want to do anything right now but…be here." What's happening?

In defiance of her previous persistence, Misty nodded, smiling softly. "Okay," she capitulated all too easily. If he hadn't wanted her to leave as much as she unanticipatedly did, he would have perhaps called out her baffling behavior. But as she started towards the door, she let out a small, shaky sigh, and turned back to Ash.

"Please try to come down soon, though?" she entreated. Ash could only nod. She pivoted away, but then was stalling once more.

"And Ash?"

He raised his eyebrows in reply, trying hard not to look so impatient. When was she going to go so he could just…be at ease?

A deep pause, then a genuine smile. "Please don't be sad anymore," Misty said quietly. "You have me. If you need to talk, I'm here. Okay?"

"Oh, okay. Th-thanks, Misty."

"Pikachu," Pikachu said suddenly, hopping off Ash's bed and joining Misty. Being by the side of his downcast, discouraged trainer all throughout the day was making the active pokémon restless. He needed to get out, to walk. Plus, he hadn't eaten in hours, and as he threw his glassy eyes up at Misty, she realized instantly of his hunger. Ash must have really been drowning in his melancholy to have been so neglectful of Pikachu's needs.

"I'll feed Pikachu," she offered, and Ash half-smiled.

"'Kay," he said. "Thanks."

Pikachu chirped a gentle good-bye to Ash and followed Misty out. As she made her way downstairs, her chest ached from the pace of her heart. The combination of seeing Ash so depressed and her being as open as she could ever be with him wouldn't allow her calm in the slightest. She could only hope that she had made some sort of difference, that, by sacrificing her own confidentiality, Ash wouldn't feel completely alone. Because he wasn't. And she was always going to make sure of that, no matter how much of herself she'd have to reveal.

Meanwhile, in his room, Ash gaped at the closed door. His lips were becoming dry from hanging open so long.

Something new had entered the picture now. Misty's soft face was etched in his memory, throwing his previously unwavering feelings into a dizzying spin. For the first time that day, he had felt his sadness, his pain, his loneliness melt away. All in an instant. The way she had been touching him, bolstering her support for him… It had felt…nice. Her words, as gentle and sweet and forward as she had let them be, were coursing their way through him, even after the awkward conclusion of their conversation. It created a weird, yet pleasant, presence in himself. It was enough to make Ash feel as edgy as he felt comforted. He was going to need some time to make sense of it all. But...how much time did he exactly have?

Gulping soundly, Ash's shaky eyes glanced at his nightstand clock. He quivered, discovering that in a mere few hours, his parents would be coming home. In a split second, his intense nervousness rebounded, and, mixed together with his other chaotic thoughts, took full hold of him.

Three hours, Ash lamented. He shut his eyes pitifully and leaned against the hard wall. It was tough against his spine, but his mind was too preoccupied with the bleak near future to care.

His parents had been leaving him out of everything previously, and that was when they didn't hate him. How much were they going to ignore him now? Was he actually going to exist to them anymore? Well, sure he would…for a short while after they'd come home. Enough time for him to receive his belated, painful sentence and harsh lecture, both of which Ash knew Jay wasn't going to go easy on him. But after that was over, what next? Ash could only miserably imagine.

Perhaps his parents would go out to eat every night, or go to the store every weekend, never extending an invitation to him. Or it could possibly go even further than what Ash expected. Maybe they'd do some traveling, go on a trip to some exotic new place, far from home. Would Ash be included in such an adventure? Probably not.

But Ash found himself mainly focusing on their attitude. Were they going to keep acting cold towards him? Would he ever see his mom's joyous smile, or hear his dad's bubbly laugh anymore? Sure…but not for him.

What am I going to do? Ash thought despairingly. He already knew the answer to the question, though: nothing. Nothing could be done. He couldn't go back in time, erase the past. He had created a problem, and now he had to deal with it. At that moment, Ash just wished he could escape from it all—get away from his unwanted and lonely fate. Be away from everything and everyone.

All of a sudden, Ash perked. Escape. Sitting upright, the word filled him with a whole new feeling of hope, of enticement. The outside world was beckoning, proclaiming its freedom, its protection. Glancing out the window, Ash became edgy. He gripped hard at his sheets and licked his lips, feeling himself nearly jumping out of his skin.

I don't want to be here anymore, he told himself. Why am I here? Nobody wants me, anyway!

He hopped off the bed, swiping the rest of the tears from the base of his eyes. He was focusing on something fresh now. He yanked his bag off the ground, just hoping that he had enough clothes in it from when he'd repacked a few days ago. Walking over to his dresser, two by two he snapped his Pokéballs onto his belt. Grabbing the brand new sweatshirt that Delia had given him, he stuffed it into the bag, zipped it closed, and threw it over his shoulder.

I don't want any of you anymore. I don't need any of you. All I need is my pokémon and my badges. That's…that's all I need.

It was for the best. All he was going to do at home now was suffer, and he didn't need that. Didn't need to deal with his dad's anger, didn't need to deal with his mom's cold shoulder, didn't need to deal with that bastard Gary, and didn't need to deal…with Misty. Or Brock, for that matter—his two friends always by his side, through thick and thin. Well, things were pretty thin right now, and yet here he still was, in his room, alone. It was all pain, and he wasn't going to take it anymore. All he needed in life was his pokémon journey. And nothing more.

Before exiting his room, his eyes suddenly caught sight of something flat and shiny upon his dresser. It made him halt in his tracks as he stared upon it momentarily. Reaching over, he clutched the object in his hands, took a look at it and scowled, proceeding to dump it in the trash can right below. Who cared if it was his mom's? If it was his, his mom wouldn't have cared, so why should he? Besides, he never wanted to see that CD again. He never wanted to hear that song again. It was a mistake, all a mistake. None of this would have happened if he hadn't done something about it in the first place. He should have left it alone. His life had been fine. His relationship with his mother had been picture-perfect, with his dad—distant for sure, but nothing compared to this. He had tried to make it better, tried to mend something that turned out would have been better left alone. It was a mistake. Ash regretfully wished it weren't.

Taking a deep breath, he left the room quietly, sneaking through the hallway and down the stairs. He slowed as he reached the bottom, looking around cautiously. Misty and Brock weren't there. Neither was Pikachu. As much as Ash wanted it, desired it, he couldn't take Pikachu. Truth of the matter, as soon as Pikachu realized Ash was leaving unobtrusively, minus his two best friends and without his family's knowledge, he would have refused and probably blew the whole thing. That was a risk he couldn't take. It pained him, but it needed to be done.

Continuing to be as reticent as possible, Ash walked softly to the kitchen. Throwing his head around the corner, he could see Misty and Brock seated on the front patio, Pikachu and Togepi right next to them. Although their backs were turned, Ash shivered at the risk of being spotted. Especially by Pikachu. Quickly, he rushed to the refrigerator and tore it open, grabbing what he could find: fruit, cans of soda, Tupperware containers of leftover dinners.

He closed the fridge and his bag, and chanced another glimpse at the patio. They had still not noticed him. Thank goodness.

Bye, guys, he bid them farewell in his mind. Bye, Pikachu. I'll meet up with you soon again…I hope. Don't wait for me.

With one last sad glance, Ash turned and carefully opened the back door, slipping out into the late afternoon sun. Met by the view of curving green mountains and wide-openness, Ash began to jog, gradually building up speed until he was running. And for the first time in a while, he finally felt free.

TO BE CONTINUED . . .